


Bean Me Up, Scotty

by mega_queer (orphan_account)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, also lindsay is super gay, just kidding everyone is super gay, sorry i'm a nerd and i like coffee shop aus, whooop updated tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4092136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mega_queer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>micheoff coffee shop au where geoff is the hot barista</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i had this idea brewing...

**Author's Note:**

> who doesn't love a coffee pun title?   
> ...what do you mean, everyone? you guys should give it a shot.

Michael narrowed his eyes as the rain continued to pelt down, soaking him through his beanie (which was barely holding onto his limp, dripping curls) and making his clothes stick to his skin unpleasantly. Frustrated, he barged into the nearest shop, not seeing the name through the hazy volley of droplets, which were mixed with hail.

A bell tinkled above the door as he marched in and he was met with a blast of warm air, causing his glasses to mist up. He felt like he’d drowned. Luckily, he was in a coffee shop and was dripping on a laminate floor, not some sort of carpet which would get soggy and mouldy. Unluckily, the barista was not too sympathetic.

“What the fuck, man?” the barista exclaimed, more of a rhetorical question that anything, “Do you have a fucking death wish or something?” here he gestured to Michael’s sodden t-shirt. “Put a goddamn coat on next time, Jesus Christ!”

“Bit fucking late for that, don’t you think?” Michael snapped back, already bitter at having been caught in the storm.

“Christ, sorry, you look cold as dicks though. You come in for a coffee?” the barista asked as Michael cleaned his glasses.

“I sure as fuck didn’t come in for a scolding.” Michael countered, irate.

“Shit man, didn’t you read the sign?” Huffing, Michael gestured to the streaked glasses he was trying to clean, but was just massaging the grime and droplets that coated them into the glass. Squinting, he gathered that the sign proclaimed ‘Rooster Teeth Java’ in large writing, with reviews taken from Yelp printed underneath that declared ‘rudest barista ever, will not be coming again’, ‘why they let that man work there i will never know’ and ‘asshole barista, makes great coffee though’ in a smaller font.

“Gee whizz!” gasped Michael, in a mocking tone, “Let’s have a cup of this ‘great’ coffee then.”

“What kind?” snickered the barista, with a wave towards the chalkboard that Michael assumed was the menu.

“Fuck if I know,” responded Michael, putting on his glasses to look at the chalkboard, “They’re all the same shit, aren’t they? You take the fucking powder and shove it in the cup, how many variations can there fucking be?!” He was beginning to rage, but suppressed it, not wanting to go on a full rant to the stranger, despite his usual tendency to.

The barista paused in cleaning a cup and began a high-pitched giggle, not a sound Michael expected from the man, who was covered in tattoos (and frankly, Michael’s type) and had piercings.

“What?!” yelled Michael, forgoing his previous resolution not to get angry.

Between bursts of laughing and wheezing, the man repeated parts of Michael’s statement, “You… You take the fucking… the fucking powder,” he broke down laughing again, unable to finish his sentence.

“How the fuck do you make coffee then, asshole?!” spat Michael, not fully meaning it, fortunately, the man seemed to have recognised this.

“Look,” said the tattooed worker, “these,” he gestured to a bag, stretching his arm and Michael couldn’t help but appreciate them and the full sleeve tats, “are coffee beans.” Here, he gasped sarcastically, “I know right! Crazy!”

Michael scoffed. “Make me a coffee if you’re so good then. I don’t give a shit what kind, so long as it’s hot.”

“I will, and it’ll be the best fucking coffee you’ve ever had – not that you’ve had many good coffees, Mr ‘You take the fucking powder…’.” Bragged the man, a teasing tone in his voice.

“Michael.”  He put in with a smirk.

“Geoff.” Responded the man, busy operating the machines with a grandiose air.

With Geoff turned around, Michael was able to appreciate the man’s figure, and he took the opportunity with both hands, admiring the man not-so-subtly.

“See something you like?” smirked Geoff, throwing an exaggerated wink over his shoulder.

Michael was not embarrassed to be caught. “Not my fucking coffee.” He grumbled, smirking back.

As Geoff turned to face the coffee machine once more, Michael took a seat on one of the bar stools by the counter. Grabbing his water-logged beanie off his head, he shoved it is his bag and tussled his hair, spraying droplets around him like a wet dog. Hearing a snicker from behind him, he swung around to see the bemused face of the employee, before noticing the tea-towel stretched out to him.

“Wouldn’t want ickle Mikey-Wikey to catch a cold.” Cooed Geoff, though his eyes betrayed a little concern. Michael snorted and seized the towel making an effort to dry his unwieldy hair with it before giving his face a once-over.

“Thanks, jackass.” He smiled, relieved to not have his hair dripping in his face.

“Cute freckles.” Winked Geoff, Michael raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to do better than that.” He laughed.

“I’ll start with the coffee, m’lord.” Suggested Geoff, as he left with a slight bow.

“You’d fuckin’ better.” Murmured Michael, catching Geoff’s amused smile at the words and smiling himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michael is in denial and geoff realises he may care a little about the wellbeing of our fave angry cinnamon roll

It was a week later that Michael returned to the coffee shop, not that he meant to leave it so long. The place was, dare he say it, cozy. The place had a nice atmosphere, he decided. Plus, the barista (Geoff, a little voice in his head reminded him) wasn't half bad. The time delay didn't mean he didn't want to return, of course not, and it definitely wasn't caused by any sort of embarrassment. And said embarrassment certainly wasn't caused by the moan he let out when the coffee was given to him, or the slight crush he absolutely didn't have on the inked man. No, Michael decided, the non-existent embarrassment and unquestionably absent crush were not why he hadn't been around to pick up a coffee. He'd been... busy. Yeah. Incredibly busy. You wouldn't believe the shit he'd been swamped with (for more than one reason). He had a life, he told himself. On top of that, who had coffee out more than once a week? The redhead could barely pay his electric bills, let alone for an extravagant coffee every morning.  
Geoff had shrugged his payment off with a nonchalant "It's on the house." with a mumbled "You look like you need it more than I do." As his friend and gamer pal Ray dragged him towards the cafe , Michael replayed the last time he was there in his head. The way Geoff expertly manipulated the machines and how the muscles in his back rippled as he stretched and reached up for a particular kind of coffee beans and the passion in his eyes when he talked about the shop and -  
"Michael, buddy, you with me?" Inquired Ray, jokingly, "We're here bro, you seemed a little out of it. You sure you're okay to come out?" Michael definitely wasn't blushing as he thought about his not-crush, but if he was (and he absolutely wasn't) Ray probably chalked it up to the awful cold Michael had had. Ray pushed open the door of Rooster Teeth Java and inhaled dramatically. "That's the scent I love!" He joked, "Not that you can smell it with your gammy nose and all."  
"Gammy nose?!" Snorted Michael, with only minor effort, "You've been spending too much time with Gav. Also, I can smell just fine. I'm better now, really."  
"I thought you were Michael," Ray smiled and then sighed, clearly annoyed at himself for the lame joke, "And that's not what Lindsay said. 'Take care of my Mikey-poo!'" Ray screeched, as though he was imitating some terrifying Grandma-Dinosaur hybrid, "'Make sure he's warm. Mikey, do you want a cough drop? Have you got your coat?!' Who's this striking young Hispanic lad?" Ray continued to shriek, winking at the end.  
"You're just salty that your roommate doesn't care that much about you, plus that's a total exaggeration - she only calls me Mikey-poo when she's drunk and last time I checked she was 26 and didn't have fucking Alzheimer's."  
"Mikey-poo, huh?" A familiar voice interrupted, "You two shitheads going to order something or just continue to practice the mating call of a fossil?" The pair turned to see Geoff, smiling cheekily. Ray seemed a little put-out to be called out by a stranger, being somewhat introverted unless he was among friends.  
"Fossils are dead, asshat. They can't make noises and shit." Michael fired back, making Ray quickly smile again.  
"It'd be pretty hard to shit as a fossil." The smaller man agreed.  
"Fucks sake," Geoff replied, "You two are going to have a fucking coffee and sit the fuck down."  
"You're not my Mom." Retorted Michael, although the heat left the statement when he began to cough and struggle for breath near the end.  
"You're looking a little peaky there, kid." Geoff seemed concerned again, reminding Michael of how he'd offered the towel last time he'd visited.  
Michael snorted, or tried to, it came out as more of a wheeze than anything. If Geoff noticed, he didn't say anything, but the cocktail of emotions evident on the man's face became twisted with worry. "You're a real softie, you are." Michael breathed, not having regained his full voice.  
"Yeah," Geoff laughed, "I guess I am. I'll go fetch you a glass of water before I make your coffee, you look like you could do with it."  
Michael watched the man retreat behind to the open counter, definitely not watching his ass as he moved or his muscles or taking in the way he walked. Ray, who'd been pretty quiet throughout (although that wasn't unusual with strangers) gave Michael a wink and wiggled his eyebrows. Michael, loving as always, presented Ray with his middle finger in return. The two locked eyes for about 10 seconds before they burst out laughing.  
"Well, at least your throat is good enough for that." A voice from behind Michael interrupted, as a painted arm sloshed a glass of water onto the bar in front of them. Ray smirked, an idea springing to mind.  
"That's not all it's good for." Ray winked, watching as Michael blushed. It was a small victory, but it was a score for Ray. He watched as the two other men spluttered for a second, before Geoff made an 'ah' noise in the back of his throat and went back to making the coffee. "It looks like rain..." Muttered Ray idly, "We should get you home soon, M. Wouldn't want you getting sicker. Lindsay would have my head - she said it was your turn to do the laundry and if I got you killed it'd be my responsibility."  
"Good point." Michael rasped, "I don't think it'll rain just yet though, we've got time." As though Fate herself heard him, and holy shit did Fate hate him, the rain began. Slowly to begin with, just drizzle, but in seconds it began to pelt down harder and harder.  
"Well, fuck." Ray summed up how Michael felt. "I guess we'll have the coffee to go, please?" He directed this towards Geoff, and the man nodded and hummed.  
"All good. Ready to go, guys." The barista smiled.  
"Okay, Mike, grab your coat. I'll pay for these."  
"Damn, Ray, have I told you that you're my favourite friend lately? Because you are." Michael smiled. Then, as Ray was paying, he looked around frantically for his jacket. "Ah, Ray?" He mumbled, "I may have forgottenmyjacketathome."  
"...You what." Ray replied, not a question.  
"You heard. I forgot my jacket."  
"You're fucking kidding." Geoff chimed in, "You come into my shop, about to pass out, fucking shivering and you forgot your fucking jacket? Is this a trend with you? Do you like freezing to fucking death?" While he talked, Geoff searched for something underneath the counter, finally, he found it and chucked it towards Michael. "Borrow mine, you little shit. I don't want you dying."  
Michael smiled and unfolded the hoodie, a size too big and smelling of coffee and whiskey. Carefully, he pulled it on and felt cocooned in the warmth. "Fucking softie." He replied, tone fond already.  
"You bitches done with the cliche love fest? Some of us have buses to catch." Ray laughed. If Michael's hand found it's way behind his neck in the way it was wont to do when he was nervous, it was absolutely nothing to do with Ray's remark and definitely nothing to do with the intoxicating scent of the jumper.  
"Thanks again, man." Michael feebly tried to shout as they left. The door slammed closed in the wind, blocking out the sound of Geoff's parting remark, not that it was meant to be heard.  
"I'm so fucked."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is cliche i'm sorry but i mean, it's a coffee shop au, there's nothing not cliche about it.  
> also #ray4bestwingman2k15
> 
> this was meant to be a oneshot but look at me being productive and shit


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back, with coffee puns aplenty.

Last week, Michael was convinced he didn't have a crush on the barista. This week, he wasn't so sure. Maybe it was the fact the jumper was always in the corner of his eye (and maybe he was wearing it a good portion of that 'always', swimming in the aroma of fresh coffee and burning alcohol, memorizing the smell. Just maybe.), or that Ray kept not-so-subtly bringing him up, or wanting to go for coffee. Maybe it was the fact he wasn't so irate, or that he was alone since Lindsay had her girlfriend around most nights or went to her house. Maybe it was that everything reminded Michael of Geoff. Shops in the street with a red front, drinking with Gav, heck, even his own tattoos.  
Either way, Michael knew he couldn't wait another week. He had to return the jumper, of course. That's why he wanted to return, he rationalized. Maybe he could even get Ray to buy him another coffee.

Ah, another coffee, that sounded good. Especially since he'd just woken up. Michael could imagine himself in the warm shop, inhaling steam and coffee fumes and just the atmosphere in general. Without a second thought, he began to compose a text.

'Yo, fuckface,' it read 'coffee?'

'what the fuck man, it's like 6 am on a fucking sunday. they even open?' was the almost instantaneous reply, before it was followed up by 'aight fam. be there soon. bringing gav.' at Michael's text to tell Ray that it was 10 am, that they were open, and that it wasn't creepy to know the opening hours. Michael's shitty old phone gave another warble to announce the arrival of the final message, 'i told him abt your hot barista.'

A sigh left Michael's worn lips and he began to chew at the bottom one in his impatience, a habit he'd picked up in his later years in New Jersey, when it wasn't exactly safe to look too conspicuous or nervous with tapping fingers. Plus, his lips were often so torn from barely biting down his rage that people assumed that he'd been in a fight, not that that wasn't always the case. A knock echoed through the hardwood door and Michael near raced to stuff his sock-clad toes into the nearest pair of sneakers, grabbing Geoff's jumper and cramming it into his backpack, along with his wallet (which only contained his Starbucks loyalty card, a couple of coupons and around $15).

"Oi! Mi-cool!" The shriek prompted Michael to hurry up and he threw open the door, only to be hit in the shoulder by Gavin, who had seemed to be trying to break the apartment door down. Michael glared. "Oh, bollocks." moaned Gav, grabbing at Michael's backpack which had been resting on the now injured shoulder, "Let me take that, sorry mate!" The Brit apologised.

"Buy me a coffee and we're even," muttered Michael, "and give that back." He didn't know why he was suddenly so possessive over his old, scuffed backpack, but he was sure it had nothing to do with the contents. Snatching the bag back off Gavin, he set off.

"But Mi-coo-" Gavin began to whine, only to be interrupted by Ray.

"Nope. No whinging. I refuse to deal with it. It's too fucking early."

"I told you before. It's 10 am." fumed Michael, "You're usually up by now for work on weekdays, asshat."

"And you've dragged me out of bed, on my one day of rest," Ray feigned fainting, "what would Jesus say?"

"Jesus would tell you to stop jerking off to fucking ponies." Michael taunted, although it wasn't a real accusation. 

"C'mon Mi-coo! We know he has Joel for that now." interrupted Gavin, throwing a wink at Ray, who blushed.

"I - let's just go and get that coffee, man." he said, pretending not to be embarrassed, "Don't pretend you don't beat it to coffee dude."

Michael's jaw tensed. "I'm not into dudes, Ray. You know that." 

"Yeah right, the only bean you're flicking is a coffee bean!" Gavin teased. Both he and Ray burst into laughter.

"Both of you can go fuck yourselves." Michael ground out, shoving the entrance to the shop open.

However, he was not met with the sight of Geoff, all mustache and tattoos and muscles and those  _eyes_ \- no, he was met with someone else he recognised, although he wasn't quite as happy to see him. Ray, however, bounded over like an excited puppy.

"Joel!!" he exclaimed, his eyes bright and happy.  Joel's eyes lit up too - all traces of fatigue ebbing away to pure, unadulterated surprise. 

"Ray?" he was clearly shocked, but not in a bad way, "What're you doing here?" Joel's eyes darted around, noting Gavin and Michael. His eyes paused on the sweatshirt Michael was pulling out of his backpack and his lips quirked up into a knowing smirk. "Catch 22, eh? Geoff used to be a roadie for them." Michael was struck with an image of Geoff, dancing in a throng of bodies, sweating, elated, the music loud and the -

Michael swallowed.

"Yeah, uh," his voice came out a bit higher than usual as he tried to remember how to breathe, "we came to return it, it's his."

With that, he quickly handed over the jumper to Joel and asked him to give it to Geoff, grabbed Gavin by the elbow and pulled him out of the door with a quick "Well, we'll leave you two alone for now!"

Gavin complained the whole was back to Michael's apartment, but that was no surprise. There, Michael plopped down onto his ragged sofa and pulled out Halo.

"How about a quick game, boi?" suggested Michael. He needed something else to think about.


End file.
